No Need for Salvation
by Shadow Fiend
Summary: Having disappeared from his relatives house at the age of four, Harry Potter has become an unknown quantity to a desolate Wizarding public caught in the throes of war. Kidnapped from his new home at an elite school, Harry reappears at Hogwarts thirteen
1. Chapter 1

**No Need for Salvation**

**Chapter One**

_By Shadow Fiend_

_Disclaimer: I claim no rights to the Harry Potter books which are the creation of J.K. Rowling and further disclaim any rights to the movies based upon the aforementioned fiction. My work is merely an extension of the material presented and will receive no monetary compensation or gratification, it is written merely for my and my reader's pleasure.

* * *

_

Hundreds of eyes flashed to the front of the Great Hall as the door swung open with a dramatic bang. Students and teachers alike averted their eyes to the front, expecting a late student, or perhaps a displeased Professor Snape. What they saw would change the course of their lives forever.

* * *

It was the beginning of another term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was also the height of Voldemort's return to power, having regained his body three years hence. Seventh year Gryffindor, Hermione Granger was the newly named Hogwarts Head Girl and her boyfriend Ron stood as Head of the Prefects. Slytherin Draco Malfoy held the position of Hogwarts Head Boy though his mysterious absence on the train had been duly noted by both of the aforementioned and numerous whispers as to his whereabouts had circulated throughout the hall from the moment of arrival.

It was an age of darkness for the Wizarding World, though Hogwarts remained in relative isolation from the decimation that took place outside its boundaries. At the moment, the war was at a standstill. Voldemort did not possess the support to move further with his plans and Dumbledore did not possess the strength to kill him. It was a standstill, with a dangerously powerful wizard heading either side and hundreds of families being shredded in the process.

Gradually, the "light" side was losing hope. It was inevitable really. When Harry Potter had disappeared from his relatives house at the age of four it had not seemed so dire to find the savior of the Wizarding World. Now, when they needed him the most, the integral figurehead for the Light, they did not possess the manpower to hunt for him and few were able to retain the hope that he was still alive.

Still, Hogwarts had somehow managed to keep its innate innocence intact. Few spoke of the troubles outside Hogwart's walls and the inter-House rivalries had come to a virtual halt, each house in quiet agreement not to belittle the sanctity of the ancient walls. Neville Longbottom and Blaise Zabini had possessed a large hand in that.

Each were somewhat of an outcast in their own Houses. Neville's Gryffindor dorm mates, though fond of the clumsy boy, whispered amongst themselves that perhaps he did not possess the courage that a Gryffindor should possess. Blaise's Slytherin house mates looked upon the quiet and studious boy with silent suspicion. Where was the cunning worthy of a Slytherin? Where was the sly nature, the lies and deceit? Eventually, the two had come together, bonded in a common cause, and had helped to break down the walls of inter-House feuding, proving, finally, that it was possible for the House's to get along.

Draco Malfoy had, surprisingly, also played a major role. With the rise of the Dark Lord, all eyes had turned to the Malfoy heir in quiet inquiry. Every person had wondered the same thing: where do Draco Malfoy's loyalties lie? Malfoy had surprised everyone, when, a day before the Slytherin was supposed to receive his Dark Mark, he walked into Diagon Alley, stood at the entrance of Flourish and Botts and proclaimed his loyalty to the Light side. Malfoy's announcement spurred a mass conversion of many dark supporters, turning the tides in the Light's favor for a short amount of time.

Draco had also faced the consequences for his loyalties. The Dark Lord had put a bounty upon his head, promising a position at his right hand to any witch or wizard willing to capture the Malfoy. His father, in shame, had attempted to disown his son, but his recent incarceration and subsequent escape had made it impossible to file the paperwork or receive legal consent. So Malfoy was still a Malfoy, though never likely to return home. Fortunately, the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's mythical protection agency, had offered the Slytherin security and safe passage in honor of his courageous act and an agreement that the seventh year would relay information he had been privy too during his brief period in the Dark Lord's circle of trust.

Sirius Black had shocked everyone when he escaped from Azkaban four years ago, and awed thousands when he appeared months later with Peter Pettigrew in tow, proving his innocence and, at the same time, achieving vengeance as he watched Pettigrew's soul sucked out by the Dementors. In restitution for his undeserved incarceration, Black had received five million galleons and his former position of 2nd in command in the ranks of the Aurors. Since, Black's merciless campaign to find his godson had frustrated the Department for Magical Defense to no ends, though his unceasing determination had invoked respect in the Head of the Department, Amelia Bones.

It had been a long couple of years for the side of the Light and they were in need of some much desired relief.

* * *

**Back to the Present**

Two figures stood framed in the doorway, cloaks billowing around them in much the manor the resident Potions Master, who, in fact, sat at the Head Table staring at the two with an unwonted expression of surprise evident on his face.

The first man stood tall, at a height of six foot or so, and the hood of his dark cloak was down, revealing startling features to a gaping student body and staff. His face was angular, and his piercing violet eyes were pulled back in a slight crescent shape, hinting of a distinctly Asian ancestry. His dirty blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and fell mid-back, leaving his face to open view. His lips were thin and pulled taut in what appeared to be disapproval, though for what reason wasn't readily apparent. His nose was long and his nostrils were flared as he glared back at those staring at him.

The second figure was shorter, perhaps just past 5'5", and was smaller as well, though his structure could not be predicted because of the large cloak he donned. His hood, unlike his companions, was up, obstructing the view of his face, and he looked downward, outright refusing to meet the eyes of any of those who observed him.

Both men's cloaks were of an interesting design, and it was highly unlikely that they had been constructed in England. They were black, but flared out widely at the bottom and at the sleeves. The neck was high collared but made so that it flared at the neck and underneath they both wore tight fitting black pants and shirts. They looked to be of the Romanian fashion perhaps, or maybe even of the Russians, who's tastes had been distinctly abstract recently.

It was not, however, the clothes, which struck the most fascination as the two men began to walk across the frozen hall towards the staff table, but the loud clanging sound which brought all eyes to the floor and connected with a foot long chain which bound the smaller man's combat booted feet together.

The taller man stopped abruptly, grabbing his companions upper arm and forcing him to a standstill. His violet eyes flashed fiercely at a Hufflepuff first year who stood stockstill in the center of the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. His arms were full of sweets which he had obviously filched from the Gryffindors but had not had time to bring back to his table before the two men had arrived on the scene. Now, he squeaked at the sudden attention, dropping the food and diving back to his seat. The snacks disappeared before they even hit the floor. The man snorted slightly in contempt, and, still gripping the other's forearm tightly, propelled him forward to stand, finally, before the staff table.

It was then, in the still silent hall, quiet perhaps, for the longest time in the history of Hogwarts, that the Headmaster seemed to come out of his self-induced shock. He stood abruptly, smiling gaily and nodded his head at the two who stood before him. "Ambassador, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance this fine evening."

"And you, Headmaster," the man said, bowing his head slightly in respect. His voice was soft, but could be heard throughout the hall. His accent was rich, but not easily placed. Then he turned his head to the Headmaster left and made a formal bow, "Lord Snape."

Severus Snape, who had watched this entire display in an unusual silence of shock, suddenly shook himself out of it as a more characteristic expression of annoyance crossed his features. "It is 'Professor' at Hogwarts, Arminius, as you are well aware."

Murmurs erupted across the room at the revelations that Snape recognized, knew this man, that this 'Arminius' and called the Potions Master 'Lord', and that he was, apparently an ambassador. The talking died down enough just in time for the hall to hear Arminius' placid response.

"Old habits are hard to break my Lord," he said, but a cunning smirk played at his lips.

Before his hot-tempered colleague could respond, Professor Dumbledore stepped in, "Too true, my friend, too true. Is this him?" he asked, changing topics abruptly and gesturing to the man standing on Arminius' left.

"_Kree_," Arminius replied in affirmation, the foreign term rolling gracefully off his tongue. "That it is."

"And were such precautions–," here Dumbledore paused to gesture widely at the fetters binding the smaller man's feet, "–really necessary?"

Arminius dropped his gaze to his young charge. "How many times did you try to run on the way here?"

The figure said nothing, merely shifting his feet slightly, but otherwise did not respond. Arminius growled in annoyance. "You _will_ answer me when I address you," he rumbled. His free hand reached over to grab his companion's cheek, forcing it up and consequently forcing the hood down.

Immediately, chaos erupted across the Great Hall at the young man's appearance. Ebony hair fell to his shoulder's in spiky waves, framing an ovular face. Two sparkling emerald eyes gazed fiercely out from a tanned face. The youth possessed striking features really, handsome at least, with flush pouting lips turned down in a frown, and strong cheekbones. Most notably, however, were the two scars accentuated upon his features. One was a star shaped scar on his left cheek, six lines running in different directions to form an astral figure, with one tip at the base of his eye running down diagonally and disappearing into his hair at the bottom of his cheek. The other one, however, was one that all in the hall immediately recognized. A lightning bolt on his forehead.

"Harry Potter?" questioned the students amongst themselves. "But...he disappeared when he was four, he hasn't been seen since. It must be someone who looks like him. Yeah that's it. But he has the lightning bolt scar..."

Arminius' cutting voice quieted the whisperers as they strained to hear what would happen next. "I asked you how many times you tried to run on the way here boy."

"_Paq_," came his quiet mutter, his voice thick and heavy with emotion, though his fierce eyes and stolid face portrayed nothing.

Arminius snorted. "Surely not," he sneered disbelievingly.

"_Paq_," the scarred man insisted, shifting his stance defensively and wrenching his face away from the offending hand while simultaneously pulling out of his grip. Arminius made to grab for him again when his attention was diverted by the Headmaster.

"Does he speak English?" Dumbledore inquired pleasantly, though his twinkling eyes showed disapproval as well as curiosity.

The man scoffed. "Of course. It's my understanding that all the boys are trained in virtually every world language. To my knowledge, he speaks English, French, German, Russian, Japanese, my mother-tongue, and, as strange as it may seem–Gaelic–fluently, though he most likely has the rudimentary knowledge to understand most any other."

"A remarkable achievement," Dumbledore said warmly, smiling benignly at the teen, though he received no response.

"I believe you are being complimented, Maverick," Arminius said, shaking the silent youth. "Is it impossible for you to show some manners?"

Maverick swatted the hand shaking him away defensively, but turned politely to the Headmaster and bowed his head, "_Riky, axim_," he said in a tone which suggested respect, even if most of the hall couldn't translate the words. Dumbledore could though, or at least, he smiled kindly and nodded.

"Perhaps we could continue this in my office, Ambassador?" Dumbledore suggested, but Arminius shook his head.

"No thank you sir, I'm just here to make the delivery, I'm expected back at the embassy by half-night."

"Yes of course," Dumbledore said acquiescently. "Is there anything especially important that we need to know before you are on your way?"

Arminius' violet eyes turned to stone. "He's a feisty one, so be on your toes. I guarantee you he will try to run as soon as I leave. I'd suggest you keep him under constant supervision and tie him down at night, else wise he won't be there in the morning. I'll leave the chains if you like."

"That won't be necessary, thank you," Dumbledore said politely, though his tone suggested warning.

"Do as you wish," Arminius shrugged. "But beware, he's _Excalibur_ trained and their type aren't ones to be taken lightly. I doubt he has qualms about violence and he excels at magic. You, as strong as you are, may not be able to control him."

"Thank you, Ambassador," Dumbledore said after a moment, "I will be sure to keep that in mind. You will find a thestral at the entranceway to take you to the embassy."

Arminius turned heel and headed for the door. Then, almost as if it was an afterthought, he turned back and waved his hands, making the chains disappear. Immediately a light surrounded the boy, and magic poured out from him. A moment later it died down and Arminius said lightly, "I had blocked his magic, but since you seem so sure of yourselves, I'll allow you to deal with it." Then he was gone, and the Hall was left staring at the one remaining.

Maverick stood absolutely still for about a minute after Arminius disappeared, his eyes focused on the wall right over the Headmaster's head. Around him, student's had regained momentum, conversing excitedly amongst themselves, though all eyes were still fixed to the Head Table. Dumbledore was silent, seemingly trying to figure out what to say and beside him Snape was fuming.

Then, all of a sudden, Maverick turned on his heel and ran, just as Arminius had predicted he would. The headmaster returned to his faculties at once. "_Stupefy_," he shouted at the boy who had just reached the door, but Maverick rolled away from the jet of red light.

"Stop," the headmaster commanded, his voice grave. "Let us talk. I do not want to hurt you."

Maverick rose to a defensive crouch, and all of a sudden there was a wand in his hand. "_Stupefy_," he shouted at the Headmaster in return, and grabbed the handle to the door as the Headmaster was forced to construct a shield. Before he could turn it however, a hiss of pain erupted from Maverick's lips as the handle burned him. Cursing, the boy turned, facing a very irate Snape and a stern McGonagall who were fast approaching. "_Reli Exoculum_," he shouted out, and a white light surrounded him as a shield. Ignoring the Professors behind him who were now pounding on the somehow solid shield, he turned his attention to the door in front of him, allowing a string of Latin to escape from his lips.

He hadn't been chanting long when he suddenly felt a shift in his shield and cursed to himself wildly. He knew that the Hogwarts Headmaster was strong, but there were very few who could break through that particular shield–it was the strongest he knew! He felt a strong tug and his shield dissipated entirely.

He shifted his body, and all of a sudden he held two wands, one pointed directly at Professor McGonagall's head, another at Hermione Granger's. The rest of the hall, it seemed, or at least the staff and the seventh years, had their wands trained on him.

"Drop the wands boy," Snape commanded maliciously. "You are clearly outnumbered."

"I think not," Maverick said, speaking for the first time of his own volition. "I could kill both before you could even flick your wands in the proper incantation to stun me. I believe you English call this a stalemate."

"As I said before," Dumbledore interjected, "we do not want to hurt you Mr. Potter."

A couple of wands faltered at the name, and surprised titters ran through the hall.

Maverick's voice shook. "It was under your orders that I was kidnaped from my home, that I was chained, and forced away from my loved ones by a madman, that my magic was bound and I was given no choice. I do believe that constitutes harm."

Stunned eyes shot to the Headmaster at these accusations but Dumbledore just gave a weary sigh. "Surely you understand the state of affairs? I did not have a choice."

"There is always a choice," Maverick breathed, his accent well defined in the quiet hall.

"This is the place where your parents went to school Harry," Dumbledore continued. "The place where you were supposed to come. This is where you belong."

"It is not your right to decide that," Maverick yelled. "And you're wrong. I will never belong here."

Dumbledore sighed. Then his eyes caught his Potions Master's. "Severus, do it."

The Potions Master smirked and withdrew his wand. Then, in calm, succulent tones he spoke. "By the power invested in me as a member of the Noble House of Snape, so decreed by Merlin and witnessed by Arthur, I command you to drop your wands."

Maverick's face shone with shock, then hurt, then disbelief. His wands slipped out of his hands. Wands across the Great Hall returned to their sheaths in quiet relief. Dumbledore waved his wand and the two dropped wands flew across to him, which he drew into his cloak of moon and stars. Then he sheathed his own wand.

"It was not my desire to have you a prisoner, Harry," the Headmaster said gently, "but I cannot have you leave. It is my hope that within time you will come to see Hogwarts as your home. That you will find a love for this new world you have been placed in. Until that time, however, I am afraid that I will have to comply with Arminius' suggestions." He turned his gaze back on the Potions Master. "He will be under your supervision Severus. I expect that you can keep him grounded?"

"He will not disobey _me_, Headmaster."

"Good." The headmaster pulled something out from his cloak. "You will need to wear these at all times, Harry." It was two golden bands just wide enough to fit snugly over someone's wrists. Maverick bulked. "They will ensure that you remain within the boundaries of Hogwarts. If you try to go past the edge of the Forbidden Forest, you will be stopped," he did not say how, but the threat was clear. "They are also enabled with a tracking device Mr. Potter, so you will not be able to give Professor Snape 'the slip', as they like to say."

Maverick backed away in panic. "No," he gasped. "I will not be your prisoner." He grasped at the still locked door behind him, not even registering the burning pains resulting from his attempts. This type of thing had never happened before. Sure, he wasn't really free at _Excalibur_ but he wasn't a prisoner either...he just wasn't free to leave. He was used to being the most powerful, and this experience was highly disconcerting. If only the one man hadn't been a fucking catalyst of Merlin, this wouldn't be a problem.

"Halt," the aforementioned man ordered, and Maverick allowed his hands to fall to his sides, panting slightly. The Professor took the offered bands and approached Maverick slowly. The youth cringed and backed up hard against the door, but he was not so brazen as to question the authority or fight this noble.

"Your hands Potter," the man said, grimacing distastefully at him as he did so.

Maverick closed his eyes as he silently offered his hands, feeling the entire time, as though he was voluntarily giving up his freedom. The bands slipped across his slim hands that tightened to fit snug upon his wrists. Maverick stared at them blankly, suddenly resigned.

"I am truly sorry Harry," the Headmaster said, sounding for all the world as though he meant it. "I did not want it to be this way."

Maverick did not respond, merely hung his head as the dark, dangerous Potions Master shoved him forcefully out the now open door.

* * *

_Please Review._


	2. Chapter 2

**No Need for Salvation**

**Chapter Two**

_By Shadow Fiend_

_Disclaimer: I claim no rights to the Harry Potter books which are the creation of J.K. Rowling and further disclaim any rights to the movies based upon the aforementioned fiction. My work is merely an extension of the material presented and will receive no monetary compensation or gratification, it is written merely for my and my reader's pleasure.

* * *

_

The Potions Master was almost cruelly silent as he led the reluctant Boy-Who-Lived down the sinuous Hogwarts halls and towards the guest chambers. It was ironic really, how suddenly the tables could change. James Potter had held an insurmountable amount of power in him during his school days, Potters ability to humiliate him during his childhood had echoed resoundingly into his adult life. Now he held the same power over his oppressors son. With his position he could bring Potter to his knees, force him to strip naked in front of the entire student body, lick his boots if he so desired. The question was, would he use it?

The Potter boy likely had little idea of Severus Snape's relations with his father nearly four decades ago. In fact, Potter likely had little knowledge of his parents at all. Arminius had said that he was _Excalibur _trained, and that meant that would have been largely isolated from the outside world, and from any one who would possess such knowledge.

Honestly, he really should be the better man. He should let go of all the pains and atrocities of the past and recognize that this wasn't the person who had committed them. He should keep a professional distance and not allow his feelings and emotions to dictate his actions. That was the creed of a spy and Severus was the best of them.

But this boy, this _Maverick_, as he called himself, looked so much like James Potter. Arrogant too, if his display in the Great Hall and his belief that he could best Albus Dumbledore, was anything to go by. His reticence now, and his compliance with the orders of a descendent of Merlin meant little.

They reached the chambers and Severus hissed the password low enough so that Maverick could not hear. It was a double sided portrait requiring a password both to enter and to leave. Severus stepped back and gestured that Maverick should enter first. The boy glanced around the area speculatively but when his eyes met the Potions Master's unyielding onyx, he entered, tensed defensively.

Severus entered after him and gave the room a look around. It was a nice room, elegant really compared to some. More than the boy deserved probably, and definitely more than a prisoner should receive. But this was the Headmaster's decision, and it was one that Severus did not care enough about to put up a defense.

He allowed the boy to look around his new quarters–his cell really–before speaking. "Strip," he commanded shortly and watched in hidden amusement how the boy whipped around to turn horror-filled eyes on him.

"What?" the boy croaked, emitting the first sound since leaving the Great Hall.

"I do believe you heard me," Severus said, his smirk widening at the obvious despair which flashed through the boy's emerald eyes.

His hands trembled slightly as he pulled off his robe, revealing the tight fitting black shirt and pants underneath. He paused slightly, but hurriedly continued at Severus' impatient throat clearing. As he pulled off the rest of his clothing, he revealed numerous hidden daggers, which Severus quickly summoned to himself as each was revealed. The boy said nothing, merely hung his head, as seemed to be his habit. When he stood in only his boxers, revealing an amazing physique with highly toned muscles and a slender frame, he chanced a glance back up at the Potions Master. Severus raised an eyebrow, "When I say strip, I mean all your clothing, boy."

For a moment, Potter looked as though he were about to protest before he seemed to come to his senses. Sighing in resignation he pulled off his boxers, his hands immediately flying up to cover his privates. Snorting inwardly at this rather feeble attempt by the boy to preserve his dignity, Severus did not press the issue merely gestured towards the bed, vanishing the clothes littering the floor with a swift flick of his wand.

"Up, boy," he commanded in a hard tone. Maverick looked at the bed with trepidation before clambering on gracefully. Second later his arms were pulled to opposing bedposts and caught there tightly, disallowing movement. Maverick's eyes widened in complete panic, and he tugged futilely at the bonds, his body shaking in silent sobs. Severus sheathed his wand, his work done, and turned to go away.

Just as he was about to exit, he turned at a confused whimper which emitted from the boy. Turning back slightly, he smirked, "You did not really believe that I was about to take advantage of a seventeen year old boy?"

Maverick's shaky voice answered him back. "Then why the stripping, and why bind me to a bed?" Inwardly he wondered if he was pressing his luck.

"If you'll remember correctly, you're original captor cautioned us to restrain you at night, hence the bonds. If you manage to somehow escape those," Severus paused, then shrugged, "well I'm assuming by your reaction when you stripped, that you are not about to run around Hogwarts naked."

He left.

* * *

It was likely only his _Excalibur_ training which kept him sane that night. Every since he had been a small child, four, in fact, he had been terrified of being confined. He was at the top of his game in a high pressure situation, or commanding a unit of armed men against a dangerous foe, as he had been forced to do on occasion, but put him in a small space or tie his hands together and he was a complete wreck.

There were no windows in this room. It was pleasantly colored in a soft blue, warm and inviting perhaps, and the bed he lay on was soft, but all these pleasantries were lost on the powerful youth at the fact that there were no windows. His hands were bound tightly, not enough to cut off circulation, but not enough to allow much movement either and they were pulled uncomfortably far apart. Sleep was out of the question, and so, instead, Harry was forced into reflection over the past few weeks.

He was still not completely sure how Arminius managed to kidnap him, despite having it explained to him by an arrogant Arminius several times. All he knew was that he had been out in the woods surrounding the elite magic school that was Excalibur, collecting rare magical herbs for the apothecary as was his habit. His magical senses were at full swing, as they always were when he was not in the safety of the school and he had a shield surrounding his immediate vicinity. He could not understand, even days later how Arminius had been able to sneak up on him.

All he knew was that, as he was pulling out a herb that they had been out of for nearly six months, he had been attacked from behind. Reacting immediately, he had put his combat training to use, rolling his attacker off of him and crouching into an offensive stance. He was off-guard to tell the complete truth, in slight shock that someone had managed to break through his wards. Then, suddenly, a wet cloth covered his face from behind and he knew no more.

Later, he would understand that Arminius had enlisted the aid of a muggle in this kidnapping attempt. Maverick, who had never once seen any muggles anywhere in the vicinity had been lazy and had not bothered to ward against them. Which was why the muggle–a large burly man who had joined the two wizards on the first part of their journey–was so easily able to sneak up on him. While he was distracted with the muggle, that was when Arminius had snuck up behind him, pulling a cloth covered in chlorophyll over his face and knocking him out.

When he awoke he had been bound tightly to a tree, miles away from Excalibur and just outside of the schools apparition wards. He had been relieved of his wands, which he had received once more only moments before entering Hogwarts, his daggers, and his sword. Unable to access his somewhat limited wandless abilities because of the inability to use his hands, he had been unable to escape.

Only later, when Arminius had gotten lazy had Maverick made his solitary attempt to escape, resulting in a very bad headache from a very painful tree, when the same muggle that had aided in kidnapping him had come out of nowhere and tackled him. Thereafter, until Arminius had been able to construct the magic binding chains which had bound his feet at their arrival to Hogwarts, Harry had been bound, gagged, and blindfolded, and most often unconscious. It had not been a fun journey.

* * *

He opened his eyes once more at the sound of muffled voices outside his door. Had he fallen asleep? Groaning, he forced himself into a sitting position, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Groggily, his mind registered that he was free to move about and that clothes sat folded neatly at the foot of his bed.

Vaguely startled, he wasted no time in pulling the standard Hogwarts student uniform, bare of a House patch, onto his body. The he calmed himself down and, settling serenely onto the bed, extended his magical senses to hear the conversation taking place directly outside.

"You had no right Snivellus," a gruff voice stated heatedly, "You and Dumbledore both. No right at all."

The Potions Master's voice was as calm and cool as always though a hint of anger sounded in his tone. "From what _little_ contact we've had with him, Black, and judging from his behavior in the Great Hall, he has proven himself to be wildly unpredictable and unmistakably dangerous. Measures needed to be taken to ensure the security of the school and its inhabitants."

The strangers voice shook as he responded, "He's barely seventeen Snape. He was kidnapped from his home of thirteen years only to be thrown into a world he has no ties to. So I think he has a right to be a bit unpredictable."

Maverick's eyes rose slightly and he felt a feeling of gratitude towards this man's stolid defense of him.

A soft snort was the Potions Master's answer. "Regardless, he is Excabliur trained. Do you understand what that means mutt? He is far too powerful to be left to his own devices."

"Can I just see him please?" The question was rich with a strange mixture of impatience and desperation.

Snape sighed heavily, "_Basilisk_."

For a moment, Maverick was confused. Then realization struck–the password. Filing the information away for use at a later time, Maverick feigned surprise as the two men entered the room.

He recognized the man immediately upon sight. Second in command of the British division of Aurors, and infamous Azkaban escapee, his name was far-reaching enough even to extend to the isolated Excalibur. The question was, what was Sirius Black doing here? And why had he been defending him?

"Harry," he whispered in a hallowed voice, reaching out with a gaunt hand, as though to assure himself, by tangible evidence, that the son of his deceased best friend stood before him.

Maverick balked at the hand that was nearing him, skittering away from the former Azkaban inmte with celerity. The Auror's face fell and his eyes disclosed an acute disappointment.

"As I have warned you Black," came the bemused voice of the till-then silent Potions Master, "he is not the godson you imagined him to be."

Shocked emerald eyes shot up to meet stricken hazel. "You...you..." Maverick stuttered, then swallowed and calmed himself. His Excalibur instructors would be ashamed of his behavior recently. "You are my Godfather?"

"Yes." The answer was heartfelt and so full of emotion that it was almost hard to hear. Maverick's face drained of blood.

A Godfather. No one had ever told him that he had a Godfather. It was trivial really, Maverick supposed, even as an intense and unknown emotion filled him. Parental figures...guardians...they were messy at the best of times and outright dangerous at the worst. His three years of experience with his aunt's family had taught him that much. This man...he meant nothing.

"You are Harry Potters godfather," Maverick said firmly, meeting the man's gaze squarely and solidifying his thoughts.

"Yes," the man affirmed once again, stepping closer as though this was the sign he had been looking for.

"I am not Harry Potter."

That stopped Black dead in his tracks. His eyes flickered from the youth in front of him to the Potions Master and back. "I assure you he is mutt," Snape said, "try not to get your hopes up."

"No," Maverick interrupted before the two could argue again, "Harry Potter no longer exists."

Severus gave him a calculating gaze, as though trying to figure out just what game he was playing. Sirius just shook his head in denial.

"My name is Maverick. The boy you look for, this Harry Potter, he is not me. Perhaps he once was, but not any longer. I grew up as a trainee in Excalibur. My experiences have been horrific, terrifying, and, at times, gruesome. Harry Potter would not have lived a life like that."

"Perhaps you have strayed slightly from the path designed for Potter," Snape agreed reluctantly, "but it is undeniable that you are in fact him. You have the scar, Potter. You have powerful magic. Magic strong enough to survive the killing curse, as only Harry Potter could. Do you deny it?"

"My magic is strong only because of my experiences," Maverick argued, then calmed himself. "My name was once Harry Potter, but no longer. I am now Maverick. I was once an abused four year old, thrown into the unwelcome hands of my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, now I am a seventeen year old, powerful and well-trained leader who has no qualms about killing to get my way."

There was a warning in his voice, and Snape's hand strayed to rest upon his wand. Sirius seemed to be in shock.

"Harry," he said slowly, almost nervously. "You've had a hard life, and I am so sorry for that. The experiences you had are not the one's I would wish on anyone none the less my Godson. If I could have taken your from your relative's home I would have, but I was incarcerated in Azkaban. I couldn't be there then, but I can be there now. Give me a chance Harry, please."

"I'm sorry," Maverick answered sincerely. "Truly I am. But its just not the way things are anymore. I don't know if anyone's told you this, but I was brought here against my will. I was kidnaped from my home. I have no desire to stay. What you want...it isn't possible."

The Auror looked at Harry for a long moment, shot a glance at the Potions Master and then, silent, turned towards the portrait door. He paused when he reached it, then, not turning, said, "I love you Harry. You'll see that in time." Then he whispered the password and hurried out of the room.

* * *

The moment the portrait door swung closed, Severus Snape fixed his cool onyx eyes upon Maverick. The gaze portrayed an intense emotion, hidden beneath an icy exterior but subtly betrayed by the confused line creasing his forehead.

"I believe you will discover in time that isolating yourself from your Godfather will prove ineffectual to your cause," the man allowed suddenly, as though he had been weighing the necessity of emitting such a thought. "You have few friends here Potter, it would be wise to retain those who are willing to submit to your cause."

"It is unfair to give him hope in a dream that can only inevitably end with his disappointment," Maverick said in response, having given the situation a fair amount of thought before having excluded the Auror. "I am not the boy he wishes me to be. It is true what I said before. The Harry Potter that this world knows and acknowledges is indeed dead. What remains of him is encased within me and in such small quantities that it would be hard to find. We are two separate people."

"The mutt will not give up," Severus warned, his eyes wrinkling when a wry smile crossed Maverick's face.

"He is a canine animagus," Maverick said, smirking at the Potion's Master astonished expression at his casual admittance of such knowledge. "Dogs, particularly those who have faced hardship in their lives, strive for the affection and love that a companion brings them. They are loyal to a fault perhaps, and incredibly persistent. He will not give up, but he will find that I am not so easy to sway."

Snape, shocked at the boy's knowledge of the still secretive animagus ability of his Godfather crossed the room in three long strides, gripping the boy hard on the shoulders and shaking him slightly. Maverick, startled, flinched in his grip but regained himself enough to stare Severus in the eyes, his own emeralds asking a silent question.

"How did you know he was an animagus, boy?" He punctuated the sentence with a shake. That ability was a secret known only to those in the Order's inner circle. It gave the light an edge of dire consequence since McGonagall's cat form was too well known and the rest of the inner circle's magic was too strong to go undetected near Voldemort. Severus was not trusted enough by the Dark Lord to be privy to all information and the mutt was often able to sneak around in an unobtrusive way to spy.

"It is in his Aura," Maverick stated calmly, shrugging the hands off of his shoulders. "The woman who fought with me last night, who spoke to Dumbledore on familiar terms, she is one too. A feline if I am not mistaken."

Severus stepped back, shaking his head in wonder. "To much power is concentrated near you Potter. You are too dangerous to be safe," he took a breath then adopted a commanding tone. "As a descendent of Merlin, I command you to keep the knowledge of Sirius Black's animagus ability to yourself."

Maverick snorted. "Don't insult my intelligence Professor. I can recognize a need for confidentiality when I see one."

"Then I trust you will mind yourself when you uncover such knowledge."

The statement was rhetorical.

"Now then," Snape said in a voice that commanded deference. "The headmaster has placed you in my guardianship for the time being. As such, you will be sorted into a house this afternoon and tomorrow will begin classes with the seventh years. I recognize, of course, that you will have far surpassed them in knowledge and magical ability, but there are always new things to learn. You will show respect to your teachers, peers, and your Head of House. You will return here at nightfall where you will check in with me before you sleep. Is this understood."

"You recognize, of course, that I will utilize any chance I see to leave here?" Maverick inquired in a tone that implied that it was an accepted fact. Snape gazed at him for a moment.

"I would expect little else from a Potter."

* * *

_Well, that's it for this chapter. I hope you all enjoyed. Thank you all so much for the avid response to my last post. Please review again if you have the opportunity._

_-Shadow Fiend_


	3. Chapter 3

**No Need for Salvation**

**Chapter Three**

_By Shadow Fiend_

_Disclaimer:I claim no rights to the Harry Potter books which are the creation of J.K. Rowling and further disclaim any rights to the movies based upon the aforementioned fiction. My work is merely an extension of the material presented and will receive no monetary compensation or gratification, it is written merely for my and my reader's pleasure.

* * *

_

There were, traditionally, very few special occasions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There was the Opening and Closing Feasts of course, the Halloween ball, occasionally the Yuletide Ball, and Christmas dinner. Even these were spaced evenly throughout the year, allowing the students to salivate for the splendor throughout several months.

So it was with great pleasure that the students at Hogwarts welcomed another occasion to eat, drink and be merry, so to speak. It had been announced at breakfast that morning that the new arrival, one Harry Potter, or Maverick as he so preferred to be called would be sorted amongst them that day. To make the foreign raised student feel welcome, the school would duplicate last nights sorting proceedings, without the abrupt arrivals and unfortunate confrontation.

His entrance was uncertain and nothing like his entrance of the night before. The shadowed look coloring his face veiled most of his emotion, but did nothing to allay the tension mounting in the room.

The Potions Master stood behind him, simultaneously blocking a hasty retreat and providing Maverick with a hefty does of despair. He was nudged silently forward through the crowded and yet eerily silent hall, ignoring the several welcoming smiles sent his way (mostly from the Gryffindors), until he stood, face to face, with his fate: the Sorting Hat.

"Sit," came the quiet order, and Maverick acquiesced as an internal battle raged within himself. Clenching his fists, he resignedly sighed as McGonagall let the Sorting Hat fall over his head and cover his eyes.

"I confess myself surprised," the soft and slightly gloomy voice of the Hat startled Maverick, who had not expected a private conversation. "I had thought, as your time had long passed to sit beneath my brim, that I would never have the pleasure of making your acquaintance."

"If I were aware of you interest, I would have made it a personal point to see that you had," Maverick responded politely, all the while amazed that he was trading niceties with a talking hat.

"Courtesy becomes you Mr. Potter...ah, but I see you do not like that name."

"No," Maverick agreed.

"Very well. Maverick then. Excalibur was good for you I think. The trails which you are yet to face will be character defining moments, ones that without the schooling you received, may well have shattered you."

Maverick was slightly offended by that. "I have never been weak," he growled, "and I am no stranger to...adverse situations."

"No," the Hat concurred, "You are, and always have been a leader. This captivity is not suited to your nature."

"I have little choice in the matter."

"There is always a way Maverick. It is your decision to follow the commands of the Merlin spawn."

"To do otherwise would be heresy," Maverick's voice was firm, his opinion on this seemingly already stoutly attained. "It would be turning my back on my family, on the values that Excalibur has ingrained in me since my conversion."

"Never a choice, never a choice, but always a path to choose," the Hat's words echoed not only in Maverick's mind but announced its riddle to the entire Hall. It's next words were again private.

"This situation will continue until you act in defense of yourself. Take careful heed of your surroundings, especially the company you keep. You, Mr. Potter–for that is your name whether you like it or not–have never experienced true freedom. You have consistently allowed yourself to be a slave–to Excalibur, to your captors, to the values you do not truly believe–take a stance, and remember that sometimes passive resistance is more useful than outward aggression. Take me off your head."

Maverick complied with the abrupt command, his head still spinning from the Hat's fierce statements. As he stood from the stool, the Hat quivered, jumped out of his hand and landed back on the stool, it's brim opening wide for a public announcement.

"_To be a tool to keep one tied,_

_That I will not be. _

_He is here against his will, _

_When he should be free. _

_Count your cards, _

_And watch your pawn,_

_Or else he'll break away. _

_If you keep him so confined,_

_Why then should he stay?_

_Power he has _

_And wits twice more_

_Values so ingrained._

_Friends are coming, _

_Coming fast,_

_Those from whom he trained._

_Hogwarts bound, _

_Horror struck,_

_Wisdom in their trade,_

_Gryffindor, Ravenclaw,_

_Internally betrayed. _

_He can stop the growing threat,_

_He can halt the fury,_

_But if you desire his success,_

_Headmaster must hurry._

_Paths are chosen, _

_Stars glow bright, _

_Slytherin, Hufflepuff,_

_Shine upon that night. _

_Merlin's spawn will see the light,_

_Dragon will appear,_

_Final victory edges close,_

_Hung upon his fear. _

_But for success,_

_For lives defended,_

_The fences broken with this man,_

_Must at once be mended." _

The Hat fell silent amidst the shocked and amazed students and staff. The Headmaster seemed to be in a state of abject horror, his eyes widening and closing sporadically, as he tried to process the Hat's warning in his head. Even the Potions Master standing nearby Maverick seemed to be startled into silence. Only Maverick, his mind used to such discrepancies in the facet of reality quickly scripted what he recognized as a prophecy into his memory banks.

He was obviously the central theme in the prophecy, the Headmaster was plainly Dumbledore, and Merlin's spawn was clearly Snape. His friends were coming, that was good to know, and it was obviously the older students and teachers if they were "wise in their trade". Dragon was a mystery. 'He can stop the growing threat, he can halt the fury?'–Well, yeah, but he didn't particularly care one way or the other. All he wanted was _out_.

Dumbledore rose almost imperceptibly nervously to address the Hall. He cleared his throat and his eyes fixed on Maverick. "The Sorting Hat, as well you all know, has been a part of the Hogwarts tradition since the school's very inception. In that time it has been witness to countless joys, tragedies, and momentous occasions. This is why it has been entrusted to sort each one of you who sit now in the Hall today. It's wisdom, birthed of Godric Gryffindor, charmed by Rowena Ravenclaw, blessed by Helga Hufflepuff, and protected by Salazar Slytherin, is unmatched. In its time here at the school it has, on occasion, given breath to prophesy–"

He gave the students the time they needed to process this statement, and took his signal to continue at the sudden understanding which passed through several eyes and the acknowledging gasps which swept through the room.

"What you just heard was one of these prophesies. The school must be given the time it needs to fully understand this foretelling, and, as such, Mr. Harry Potter will not now be sorted. Instead, Professor Snape will escort him back to his rooms and he will join the Seventh Years' for classes in the morning. Please enjoy your meal."

A strong hand gripped Maverick's upper arm and forced him from the Great Hall as hundreds of eyes remained latched to the silent Hat.

* * *

It was as he worked out the kinks in his muscles the next morning, following yet another unrestful night bound in the bed, that the package magically appeared in his room. In it, he found another school robe, this time with the Hogwarts crest woven upon it, his less powerful wand, a map, and a schedule of the classes he was expected to take.

Donning the thankfully warm robe, he immediately clasped his wand, sighing in relief as he felt his power surge through him, and scanned the list. NEWT Transfiguration was listed as his first class, starting in approximately half an hour. He wondered if they had started on Animagus transformations yet...

Just as he was pondering whether or not he would be allowed any sustenance today, a tray with a hearty breakfast appeared, accompanied by a short note explaining that the portrait entrance to his room was programmed to open exactly fifteen minutes before his first class and advised him to use the map to find his way.

Snorting that they expected him to just wantonly attend the classes as they apparently expected, Maverick wolfed down the breakfast in about ten seconds and considered his options.

If the portrait was opening of its own free will, he wouldn't have to sacrifice his knowledge of the password any time soon. Fifteen minutes though, wasn't enough time to get out of the castle without some serious magical aid, never mind the Forbidden Forest. With his wand, he most likely had enough strength to break the wristbands he wore, but they must likely had an internal trigger which would immediately inform the Headmaster and Snape. His only chance would be to utilize the element of surprise, and to attempt an escape on his first day of relative freedom wouldn't be doing the unexpected, it would merely be typical.

Just as the portrait slid open, he had made up his mind to attend classes for the firs t week or so, become comfortable with the landscape of Hogwarts, and then attempt his escape.

He arrived at the Transfigurations classroom exactly as the class was scheduled to begin, the last student to arrive. For a moment, the mixed class of Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins stared at him, until McGonagall cleared her throat authoritatively and pointed to a seat next to the Head Girl Hermione Granger.

As the class begin to regain focus on the lesson, Maverick was forced to hide his scorn as the teacher explained the basic change from a pig to a chair—so, not Animagus transformations then. Why, they were only on basic animal mutation! At Excalibur, Maverick had learned this when he was only ten. It was considered basic knowledge. From what Maverick knew of the Ordinary Wizarding Levels, the students in this class were considered the highest tier of transfiguration students, a laughable title if what he saw before him was anything to go by.

His amusement must have shown on his face because Granger sent him a reproachful look as she eagerly jotted notes, raising her hand enthusiastically at every question that was asked. Soon enough, they were practicing the transfiguration themselves in partnered groups. After a moments thought, McGonagall had asked Hermione to partner with Maverick to show him the ropes.

Granger was explaining the procedure to him in enthusiastic tones, when he swished his wand and changed the pig in front of him to an extremely ornate chair of an ancient design. Her lecture was immediately halted and she stared at him in awed wonder. McGonagall, having been observing them when he had done the transfiguration, hurried over.

"Exactly to what extent does your Transfiguration knowledge reach Mr. Potter?" she demanded, her eyes bright with the thought of his seeming brilliance.

Maverick merely shrugged. McGonagall seemed intent on interrogating him however, and plagued him with questions to which he finally answered her in bored, irate Gaelic.

Distressed by his lapse into a foreign tongue, McGonagall chastised him in similar irritation. "I know full well you are able to speak English, Mr. Potter. If it would so please you, you may also speak French with me, but you will answer me in a language that I can understand."

Grinning at her, he responded in the Navajo tongue. He remembered the Sorting Hat's advice from the night before. Passive resistance was sometimes better than outward aggression. He could do little to them with magic or brute force at the moment, but he could exasperate them through language.

Frustrated, her eye ticking in a decidedly annoyed way, McGonagall finally threw her hands up in the air, "It is obvious that you are intent on evading my questions Mr. Potter, what must I do for you to pay me some respect?"

Maverick considered, his eyes narrowed slightly in thought. Then he decided on his firs t term. "If you address me as Maverick I will consider answering your questions madame. I have not responded to the name of Harry Potter since was three years old."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Very well then, Maverick, how much transfiguration knowledge do you actually possess?"

The teenager cocked his head, thought for a moment, then responded. "I have been trained in the arts of Transfiguration since I was about five years old. This kind of basic animal mutation you have displayed to your students today, I had already become adept at by the age of ten. At twelve I trained with an innate Metamorphmagus and learned all that was possible in terms of self-Transfiguration. I received my Animagus license the year before last."

McGonagall's eyes widened and the rest of the class let out a simultaneous gasp of astonishment. "Your form?"

"Is classified information and will remain so until I have need of it."

The Professor's eyes narrowed at this seeming broach of etiquette but she otherwise let the matter drop as the class came to an end and the students swarmed out of the classroom, no doubt ready to spread the word about Maverick's ever increasing gifts.

The rest of the classes until lunch, Charms and a ridiculous class called History of Magic, passed in relatively the same manner. In Charms, the small professor, Flitwick, showed an example of a high level sleeping charm. With half of the class snoring, Flitwick was so preoccupied attempting to wake everyone back up that he had little time to murmur over Maverick's own, brilliantly displayed _Dorminum_ charm. The other, History of Magic or whatever, was taught by a ghost, and seemed to notice nothing about his surroundings, none the less a new, high-profile student.

Lunch dictated that Maverick return to his rooms, where he received a tray once again and a note from Snape explaining that the Headmaster wanted the students to get accustomed to his presence through his appearance in classes before he caused a scene in the Great Hall for meals.

Maverick had only one class in the afternoon. Divination with a Professor Trelawney. Maverick himself was no seer, but he did possess some preternatural gifts in that particular art. To elaborate, he couldn't see the future, but he could see auras and sense other quirks about people which could led him to make reasonable predictions about where someone's actions would lead them.

Therefore, Maverick had a relatively stable idea about whether a woman claiming to be a seer was a fraud or not. When he ascended the many flights to the stuffy Divinations classroom he took one look at Trelawney and recognized right away that she was a second rate fortune teller who would produce perhaps five real prophesies or premonitions in her lifetime.

He snorted. At Excalibur, his Divination teacher had been world-renowned. He prophesied at least once a month and had premonitions about twice daily. He was also only about twenty-nine and he and Maverick had become close friends over the course of Maverick's studying. Maverick was by no means the most gifted student in Divination, but he was the most dedicated to the art, and thus had earned Nobu Nightingales respect and friendship.

He suffered through the first half an hour in silence but when the insufferable woman had the nerve to grab his hands and suggest a gruesome fate, he was forced to react. Laughing, he pulled the woman's own hands out in front of him and pointed out her own relatively short lifeline. Then, sneering, he stood, and walked back to his rooms.

It was obvious this school was full of fools and frauds.

* * *

Sorry this chapter took so long, but I've been pretty busy. How is it so far? Thank you also for all of your kind reviews, I really appreciate them and they really motivate me to continue with this story.


	4. Chapter 4

**No Need for Salvation**

**Chapter Four**

_By Shadow Fiend_

_Disclaimer:I claim no rights to the Harry Potter books which are the creation of J.K. Rowling and further disclaim any rights to the movies based upon the aforementioned fiction. My work is merely an extension of the material presented and will receive no monetary compensation or gratification, it is written merely for my and my reader's pleasure.

* * *

_

An almost forty year old werewolf rubbed his temples in exasperation at the scene before him. Accustomed to such displays with the company he kept, he was not so much aggravated as amused. Temper tantrums from an adult ex-convict, as long as you were beneficially acquainted, were always somewhat comical.

Remus Lupin had been pleasantly surprised at Sirius' news that Harry had returned from wherever he had been. He had been intrigued to discover that the boy had been at a remote and high-profile school, being trained in arts long thought lost to wizard kind. He had been angered on the boy's behalf at Sirius' description of Harry's kidnapping and continued captivity.

"They put _Snape_ in charge of him Remmy," Sirius whined in his typically Sirius way. "Snape orders him about and Harry, under some spell obviously, does whatever he is bid."

"Maybe he's just respectful, Padfoot," came Remus' calm response, his eyes tracking the dark haired man back and forth as he paced.

"He won't even respond to Harry, Moony," the Animagus complained. "He insists that he is _not _Harry Potter, and only responds to the name Maverick. I don't understand it."

"He probably hasn't been addressed by his proper name since he disappeared Sirius," Remus interjected reasonably. "He's going to need to get accustomed to Hogwarts and the people around him. It might take a while."

"He needs our help Moony," Sirius suddenly stopped his pacing and caught Remus' gaze, intense and commanding all at once. "I need _your _help."

Remus maintained the connection, standing and gripping Sirius' shoulders. "What can I do Sirius? I love Harry as my own. You know that. I'll do whatever I can to ease his transition."

"I want him removed from Dumbledore's control Remus," Sirius said, completely solemn for one of the first times ever. His eyes flashed dangerously. "I want you to be my legal representation. I want to sue Dumbledore for protective custody over Harry and negligent and abusive behavior."

* * *

Maverick awoke the next day expecting the same routine as the previous two days but was surprised by the note from the Potions Master instructing him to use the facilities on the 4th floor (password: _estuary_) and proceed to the Great hall for breakfast. A schedule for his day was attached, delivering the unwelcome news that he would have to deal with Snape for the first time in an educational context later that morning. 

It was early, only six, so after a long, hot, and fulfilling shower, he set out to explore his newfound freedom until breakfast and roamed the castle. Frustrated by the style of the school robe, he had transfigured it into his accepted fashion. It would only last a day or so, but it was a welcome relief from the schoolboy attire he had been thus far forced to wear.

He had left his underclothes in the basic Muggle style he preferred-a simple black shirt and fashionable black pants. The robe he wore over it was high collared, preventing exposure to his neck, was form fitting at the top, with slightly open sleeves, then flared out at the bottom, exposing the pants underneath. The objective was to allow for a wider range of motion and the entire robe was lined with leather, spell resistant and capable of negating most common charms or curses.

After wandering around a bit, carefully avoiding the few early risers walking about the castle, he made his way up to the Owlery, following his map. When he pulled on the door, however, it stuck, and would not allow him entrance.

"Typical," Maverick muttered, not having expected it to work anyway. He could magic it, he supposed, but it wasn't worth the effort. The owls had most likely been warned against him.

After some speculation he shrugged in an uncaring way. These walls would not hold him forever. A ringing from the clock tower informed him it was seven, and time for breakfast.

It was hard to ignore the attention which was entirely focused upon him as he entered the great Hall. This was the first time since the 2nd Sorting-Gone-Wrong that the school as a whole had endured his presence outside of classes, and his different manner of style was not adding to his overall attempt at normalcy.

Snape had not instructed him as to where he should sit during his meals with the school so he found a presentiment upon him the instant he entered. He weighed the options in his mind for a split second before he nonchalantly lowed himself into a seat near the end of the Ravenclaw table where a few book bedecked third years stared at him in unadulterated awe.

The rest of the school regarded his decisions with utter confusion, and, as he chanced a glance around at the students and teachers alike he was overcome by the speculation that they had thought the only possible choices for his seating arrangement would lie in the Gryffindor or Slytherin tables. Thus, the decision Maverick had made in order to lay to rest any derisive thoughts from the students instead put them on even higher alert as they were forced to regard him as an even more eccentric oddity.

Still, the choice was not countermanded by the Potions Master, nor did any of the Ravenclaws protest, though there were a few nervous glances throughout the meal. Maverick merely ignored these and proceeded to eat his average diet of toast and fruits for breakfast.

Near the end of the meal, he received an anxious prod on the shoulder from one of the Ravenclaw third years he sat next to. The girl's hand shook slightly as she pointed up to the Head Table where Dumbledore and Snape were gazing pointedly at Maverick, and, when his attention was caught, Snape gestured to him commandingly.

When he stood before the two, all eyes on him once again, the elder two spoke in low voices.

"We maintain a dress code here at Hogwarts, Harry," Dumbledore said gently, his eyes sweeping across Harry's attire in a disapproving manner.

"Those are not the clothes I had sent to you for today Potter," Snape added in, his eyes glinting in unconcealed anger. "I expect you to wear what is sent."

"In all due respect Headmaster, my lord," he nodded at Snape, "these are the clothes that were sent. I merely transfigured them into a style that was more fitting to my background and personality. Surely, as you have kept me here against my will you are willing to make a few minor concessions to make my stay here a little more comfortable?"

"You will change them back immediately you little ingrate," Snape suddenly exploded. "You're just like your…." Dumbledore laid a restive hand on his shoulder, silencing him.

"You may wear that if you so choose, but be warned that I am not usually one to make exceptions. In return, I expect you to learn to treat the professors here at Hogwarts with a modicum of respect. I believe that is an acceptable compromise?"

Maverick thought for a moment and then nodded in acquiescence. Just as he turned to exit the hall for his classes, a loud pop erupted near the Gryffindor table and a dark cloud formed, drifting from the Gryffindors to the center of the hall where a figure emerged. Immediately Maverick recognized him.

"Darkfire, you were not who I had expected," he stated in a slow, careful manner.

Dressed in the same manner as Maverick, the figure was tall, dark, and intimidating. Standing near six foot three, he towered over Maverick and most others in the Hall. His hair was ebony and folded into a ponytail that fell to past his buttocks. His face was pale, and shaped aristocratically, his eyes slit, and colored blood red, the origin of his name. The Hall as an entity let out a frightened gasp as a shift of his jaw revealed his sharpened fangs.

"Darkfire" was actually a free-willed Vampire, adrift from the coven of his "birth" for the last dozen years or so. Changed at the age of 17 at the request of his vampiric mother, Darkfire was a relatively young vampire, a fledgling still at only five turns.

He had been brought to Excalibur only three years a go by the Vampiric Runes Mistress who had coerced his subordination with her superior magickry, age, and promise of blood and protection. Maverick, only fourteen at the time had not made a good impression on the fledgling and the two had become instant enemies. It was only the restrictions on behavior enforced at Excalibur that had stopped the two from all out war in the past and his presence here at Hogwarts without the Elders was highly disconcerting, if not entirely nerve-wracking.

Darkfire sneered at Maverick in irrefutable scorn, and as he pulled back his lips, the Hall gasped in unison at the pointed fangs. Maverick rolled his eyes, as though the mans aura didn't identify him as a vampire automatically.

"The others come," Darkfire said, finally, his gaze centered on Maverick, his bloody orbs showing nothing but intense dislike. His voice was the deep, purring tone that vampires were so known for. "They bring a hostage and pace themselves, as you are in no immediate danger. They are at least three days away, though I doubt it will be any longer than that."

"And how did you come to be standing before me, if beings far superior to yourself are still three days away," Maverick questioned, his voice sugared with sweetness.

"I possess blood ties, mortal mine," he mocked the seventeen year old now. "I trust you can figure the rest for yourself."

Maverick could. If the vampire had a blood tie he could tap into the store of innate magic that ran through his veins. It meant that he possessed a mortal relationship with one of the Hogwarts students that he was able to manipulate in order to apparate directly into Hogwarts.

"I doubt the Elders would give you leave to utilize that tactic without at least one of them present," Maverick said derisively as his hand slipped towards his wand holster. "I am quite sure that they did not entrust my welfare to you for any length of time. Therefore, I am forced to infer that you came of your own accord," here Maverick paused and let a mask of histrionic adoration cross his features. "Oh, Darkfire, you came to rescue me? You shouldn't have."

Darkfire released a barking laugh. "Why Maverick, you know that I would never pass up an opportunity to have you completely at my mercy. Surrounded by pathetic wand wavers and no Masters here to protect you. You're as defenseless as a non-Mage in this environment."

Dumbledore finally seemed to recognize the obvious threat that this stranger posed, and stood, his wand pointed between the Vampires eyes. "You're kind are not welcome here," Dumbledore intoned, though his voice remained distantly polite. "I would ask you to leave this school immediately."

"My kind?" Darkfire said, dumbfounded for a moment as he stared hard at Maverick. Then his eyes lit up in silent recognition. "Oh….vampires you mean. If you would like to enforce that policy, mortal, I suggest you take a closer look at some of your residents."

"Silence Darkfire," Maverick suddenly said, nervous now. He was not a vampire, but he did not claim complete mortality either. "Those truths are not yours to tell."

Dumbledore maintained his façade of complete imbecile, but the underlying expression on his face was confusion. Nevertheless, he did not question Darkfire, nor did he countermand Maverick's order. He merely continued as though neither comment had occurred.

"You were not welcomed on to these grounds, and you are not welcomed now. Please leave before I am forced to resort to drastic measures."

"You are a strange man," Darkfire said, confused now in his own right. "You hold one captive behind your walls in order to profit from his magical strength, yet one who enters of his own volition you entice to leave. Ironic really."

"You flatter yourself Darkfire," Maverick snorted. "I would not call you one of "magical strength"."

Darkfire's face turned cold. "I have strength enough to dispose of _you_."

Several things happened simultaneously. Dumbledore, unable to mistake the threat in Darkfire's words, shot off a stunning spell, at the same time, a black light shot from Darkfire's hand, headed towards Maverick, and Maverick, acting instinctively, swung his wand in a graceful arc. The ominous beam rebounded off the shimmering shield Maverick had erected, Darkfire didn't fall into a stupor as the stunning spell hit his flesh, and Dumbledore quickly cast a collective shield, sheltering all except the teachers and the two Excalibur veterans.

"Violence is not necessary," Dumbledore cried out, changing tactics. "Let us talk peacefully."

"This is not your fight!" Darkfire said icily. "Stand down, old man."

Noticing Snape opening his mouth, no doubt intent on discovering rather his unique form of command was effective on both of the Excalibur students, Maverick hastily erected a sound and energy barrier, cutting off all of the teachers save for Dumbledore who was standing too near by.

Darkfire took advantage of Maverick's distraction and shot another wave of black light. Dumbledore, obviously befuddled, but unwilling to allow harm to come to the Prophecy Child, regardless of the circumstances, deflected the ray.

Darkfire snarled his displeasure. "DO NOT INTERFERE mortal," he rumbled and flew at the aged Headmaster. Dumbledore taken by surprise and weary of the incoming fangs, took a step backward and outside of the shielding sphere. Moments later he was pounding on the shimmering barrier, soundless, but still annoying.

"Finally just the two of us," the vampire was on edge. His red orbs glowed with bloodlust and Maverick was forced to recall that his eyes were the physical manifestation of a Vampire who consumed too much blood, astray from a Coven Mistress. "As it should have been since the beginning. I have waited a long time to taste the elixir of your blood mortal mine. It is a treat that I have been forced to wait for. But the time has come."

"I am unable to become a vampire, Darkfire," Maverick said, his voice was strong but inside he was shaking. He and Darkfire had never fought head to head before. They were both strong and there was no way to tell who would be the dominant in a fight. "I can not share your curse."

"I do not look for a partner your ridiculous human," he sneered. "Certainly not in you."

Then Maverick was overcome with the full impact of Darkfire's sentiment. If he did not seek the _Change_ which was the only reason controlled Vampires ever sucked human blood, or did not receive consent to drink a certain amount, then he sought Maverick's death, a crime in he Ministry-sanctioned Vampire Covens, but something that freelance vampires such as Darkfire had been before did on a regular basis. It was considered to be the ultimate slap in the face.

"You will not take my life force," Maverick said with certainty, "I will not allow it."

"_You _will not have a choice."

Darkfire flew at Maverick then and Maverick shot off one of the darker curses in his magical repertoire, one that he knew had an impact on vampires. Darkfire was halted in his tracks as all of his forcibly taken blood circulating throughout his body suddenly began to burn. The delay was momentary though, and he shrugged it off.

Maverick was worried. Vampires were impervious to most wizarding spells and he knew only a few spells from the immortals. He was left with only one option. He sheathed his wand and crouched into his fighting stance.

Darkfire assailed him with might, fists flying in every direction. A sharp right hook caught Maverick by surprise and the teens head flew back from the impact. The blow shocked him for the precious seconds it took for Darkfire to kick him in the stomach, dropping Maverick to the ground.

Gasping for breath, Maverick didn't question the wandless magic occurrence as a sharpened blade appeared in his hands. This wasn't an honorable fight, so honest tactics couldn't be counted on. Just as Darkfire prepared to kick him whilst he was down, Maverick stuck the blade straight through the Vampires legs.

Darkfire was shocked and dropped to one knee in pain as he grasped the handle of the blade and pulled it out, his face a mask of agony. When he had pulled it out, he stared at it in abject terror. "Poison," he whispered. "You poisoned me."

"Survival of the fittest," Maverick announced, his voice shaky and he drew his wand once more, staring hard at the fallen Vampire.

Before he could intone a single spell, the shield around the two suddenly dissipated. Distracted from the task before him, Maverick shot his gaze around the room and immediately bowed low in respect. One of the Elders had arrived.

As he straightened, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his back and dropped to his knees. Darkfire had attacked him from behind. He felt the movement behind him, the killer move no doubt, when suddenly a commanding voice filled the room.

"Stand down Darkfire."

And, shockingly, Darkfire stepped away. "Heel Darkfire," and Darkfire slid to his knees, crawling to where the voice had originated.

Aestra Madraga was a one hundred year old Coven Mistress of extreme magical power. She stood only five foot four inches, lithe, and had golden hair which seemed to hover around her head in curling streams every time she moved. Her eyes were an intense jade, only slightly tinted with the pink that came from mortal blood consumption over years. She wore the female version of the style which Maverick and Darkfire frequented, the same outer robe, with a flowing interior ebon dress, lined with silver fire at the bottom. Even at her short height she was an intimidating presence. She was also Darkfire's Mistress of subordination, the one he was forced to obey.

When Darkfire had crawled to kneel before here, she gripped his dark locks in her claw like fist, pulling his head up to force him to meet her angry eyes. Darkfire keened at her rage, and attempted to look downward, to prove his inferiority. Aestra shook him hard and growled low in her throat, her lips pulled back for emphasis, displaying her frightful fangs.

"I did not give you leave to feed off of one such as him," she purred, releasing Darkfire's hair and pulling her hand black only to deliver a striking blow to his unprotected face. Her fingernails left bloody trails as she pulled back.

"No, Mother," he said, awarding her the title she was entitled to as the leader of his Coven. "I was disobedient."

"You were more than disobedient Childe," she snarled, low in her throat. Darkfire didn't even flinch as her hand collided with his face once more. Vampires were violent by nature and insubordination to the Coven Mistress was the most heinous of Vampiric crimes.

Aestra crouched low, and pulled on Darkfire's chin roughly. "You will return to Excalibur where you will wait for me in my chambers. You are to remain in my chambers, without feeding, until I return."

She slapped him once more and he abruptly disappeared.

Then the entire hall turned their eyes to Maverick.


	5. Chapter 5

**No Need for Salvation**

**Chapter Five**

_By Shadow Fiend_

_Disclaimer: I claim no rights on the Harry Potter books which are the creation of J.K. Rowling and further disclaim any rights to the movies based upon the aforementioned fiction. My work is merely an extension of the material presented and will receive no monetary compensation or gratification. The record should further who that this is no reflection, positive or otherwise, upon Miss Rowlings own writing and is merely written for my and my reader's enjoyment.

* * *

_

Aestra Madraga surveyed the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with nothing short of complete disdain. As far as her education philosophy was concerned, there were less than half a dozen students in the entire hall she would have been willing to train, and even fewer she would have put faith on surviving.

She turned her jade eyes on Maverick, the young mortal she had come to retrieve. She, like every other Elder and teacher at Excalibur, had had intense training sessions with the boy, frequent communication, and had maintained the fierce student teacher relationship necessary to his continued survival in the school and later outside of it. Besides that, however, she had little interaction with the youth outside the educational environment. He was not a vampire, though she knew he was not completely human, so at the time there had seemed little need.

Now, however, as she gazed at the fiery eyed boy, held captive in this place, though his magic was by far the strongest of any present, she wished that she had gotten to know him on a more personal level. She didn't know much about any of her students pasts, save that most of them had been hard if not entirely unbearable, but seeing how hard these people were fighting to keep this boy here against his will she figured he must be someone of great importance to them.

He bowed again to her in gratitude and she nodded her head in acknowledgment. The wizards around them were silent, as though afraid to interrupt and set one or the other of them off. Even the Heir of Merlin, the one she sensed nearby did not try to speak, an unusual feat for one of his breed. The mortal Headmaster, aged beyond her comprehension, even more so than she, and powerful as well, a match perhaps for anyone save for the boy in the centre of the room, did not attempt to regain control of the situation.

Finally, after a long hard and fruitless silence, the Headmaster spoke, "The vampire who was here earlier said that the Elders had a hostage? May I ask who?"

Aestra sneered in contempt. "I do not know. I was not with the original party, and even if I was I would not tell you. The only reason I am here was because my fledgling disobeyed my direct order and entered the Hogwarts premises in an attempt to end the life of one of my students."

"How did you enter Hogwarts Madame?" the Headmaster asked politely.

"That's 'Mistress' mortal, and it is not your concern," she snapped. "Though you should know that those who come hold many more powerful than I and they will not appreciate your captivity of this boy."

"Answer the Headmaster's questions," the Potions Master finally lost his patience with the woman and commanded, fully expecting her to bow to his orders.

"You think I adhere to _your_ whims Merlin spawn?" Aestra hissed, her dark eyes locked on the pale mortal man who looked, ever so slightly, nervous at the Vampiress' affronted attention. "I am Coven Mistress and the mortal blood of such swine as you fuels my immortal veins. I am not bound by such petty travails as many of my mortal colleagues. Be careful of whom you attempt to assert control."

Her eyes swept over him once more then dismissed him. Dumbledore's gaze flickered across the hall, uncertain how to proceed from this precarious turn of events. The students, in the habit fast becoming commonplace for them, had settled at their various tables and were eerily silent. Most locked onto the Vampire, though some stray stares had drifted to Maverick, who had retained his knee bent bow.

It was Aestra who broke the silence.

"Rise young one," she permitted in sultry tones and hissed her displeasure at Maverick's noticeable wound. Stalking forward she gripped Maverick to steady him and analyzed the laceration. Harry held perfectly still, well aware of the effect of open blood on a Vampire at any age.

"Submit," she commanded suddenly, and her hand shot up to entwine in Maverick's ebony locks. Maverick adhered immediately, tilting his head up and twisting the right side toward her, where two small scars, likely due to fangs, already marred the vein running up his neck.

The Headmaster finally seemed to come to his wits. "Halt!" he cried. "I will not allow him to be Turned."

But it was too late. Aestra had plunged her fangs into Maverick's neck at the same point the scars had marred and was now drinking from him steadily, supporting the swooning boy with her hand at the back of his head and his chin. She pulled back from him and lapped at the teenager's bleeding neck, which rapidly healed.

Aestra stepped away and cast her eyes toward the area where Maverick's wound had once lain. Now the skin was cleared, leaving only a faint outline of the very damaging wound.

Maverick's gasping breath echoed through the crowded Hall as he regained his composure and then quieted suddenly as he prostrated himself face down before Aestra in gratitude. Her lips quirked slightly in good humor and she licked at her reddened lips. She let the mortal lay there in gratitude as she turned to size up the very angry Dumbledore behind her.

Dumbledore's fierce eyes swept over the prostrate Maverick as though trying to figure out whether the exposure to the Vampire had caused him to somehow become a bloodsucking fiend himself. Satisfied that Maverick was still very much human, he squared off against Madraga.

"I merely healed him mortal fool," she hissed, her face flushed from recent blood consumption. "He can not be Turned."

Dumbledore sighed in relief, and his face resumed the polite expression it had held before, though remnants of his earlier discomfort still shimmered across his features. "Then we are in agreement," he said.

Aestra stared at him in confusion for a moment before she shrugged. "I doubt that mortal. If I _could_ Turn him I would, but he cannot be Turned."

Dumbledore looked intrigued and surely would have asked more had not Aestra turned and allowed Harry to resume a standing position.

"Are you prepared to leave young one?" she inquired, her voice purring as she spoke to him, the closest she came to be sympathetic.

Dumbledore stepped forward suddenly at this, his eyes worried.

"Aye, Mistress," Maverick admitted. "More than prepared."

"He cannot leave," Dumbledore interjected.

"He is right Mistress," Maverick sighed. He held up his wrists. "These bands ensure that I can not leave the grounds."

Aestra Madraga gripped his wrists and analyzed the bands. Her grip was quite hard and her nails dug into his skin, dripping blood, but Maverick, well acquainted with Vampires and knowing that she did not do it on purpose did not protest.

"I can not remove them mortal mine," she said after a moment, sounding quite displeased at this revelation. "They are tied into your relationship with the Merlin Spawn, so long as you obey the idiotic fool or he allows you to remove them they will remain."

"I understand, Mistress," Maverick bowed his head and pulled his sleeves back down as the Vampire released him.

"The Elders will be here soon," she told him privately, switching to the Navajo tongue she was most fond of. "They will ensure your freedom and also teach these mortals a lesson about keeping captives they will not soon forget."

"Darkfire?" Maverick replied in the same language. Aestra hissed.

"You need not worry about him for quite a while mortal mine. He will not have use of his legs for at least a month."

"My thanks Mistress," Maverick responded.

"I leave you now," Aestra said, in English now.

She stalked forward to stand in front of Dumbledore, who stared down at her for a moment before shifting to the side, letting her pass through the crowd at the front of the Great Hall. Moments later she was gone from the Hall and doubtlessly headed towards outside the apparition limits.

Maverick met gazes with the Headmaster, then, after a moment, left the Great Hall, headed towards his second class of the day as the first was far past over.

* * *

It was something to ponder when, as the Headmaster chose which classes Maverick was to attend and with whom, that he should end up in the tense Slytherin/Gryffindor mix of Advanced Potions. Even though the Houses had come to something of a truce, the mere presence of Snape seemed to raise tensions to almost incendiary levels.

Still, as the bushy haired Gryffindor girl beside him quietly informed him, this was apparently the Potions Master _subdued_. Granger, as she introduced herself, said that the disappearance of Draco Malfoy, the man's godson, had put Snape ill at ease. If that was so, and considering the conditions under which he slept every night, Maverick did not care to see him in a comfortable setting.

They were all making independent potions today. The girl beside him was flustered but hiding it well. If Maverick was guessing correctly, he had her pegged as the type of girl who relied heavily on her books in order to compensate for a lack of innate magical ability. Unfortunately for her, in order for high-class potions to be brewed to the correct potency, the brewer need to be able to assess their magical core and apply that to their potions making.

Maverick had never been particularly talented at potion brewing, but years at Excalibur had enabled him to recognize what the potion needed in order for it to maintain its consistency. Presently Maverick was adept at potions making and knew enough to be comfortable in a potions lab.

"You are stirring far too hard," Maverick observed softly to Granger. "Try not to crush the lacewings."

"I know _that_," she snapped briskly, obviously offended, but her stirring softened in response and he turned his attention to his own potion, content that he had saved the classroom from the calamity which undoubtedly would have occurred had not the girl done as he had instructed.

The Potions Master swept around the room, occasionally snarling instructions at the less competent and hurling insults at the more. So far he had ignored Maverick, obviously trying to put the events of the morning behind him but as the period progressed he seemed to become more comfortable.

He hovered over Maverick for a matter of minutes, his analytical black eyes taking in Maverick's swift and decisive movements and seemed to acknowledge that the Excalibur-trained boy knew his Potions. For lack of anything to criticize he merely muttered an annoyed comment about relative incompetence and sauntered away to relieve his frustrations over the shoulder of a shaking Parvati Patil.

As the class finally came to an end, and several Potions, including the almost-imperceptibly tainted Grangers, were pronounced utter failures, while others were grudgingly bottled up and put in the stores, an irate Snape commanded Maverick to remain after class. Maverick, who had breathed a sigh of relief with everyone else as the time had ended, unhappily obeyed.

"I have never met a mortal who could not be Turned to vampirism," he said quietly when everyone had left the room. "Care to explain what that despicable woman was implying today?"

"Not particularly m'lord," Maverick said honestly, Snape's eye twitched.

"Explain boy."

"I would rather not m'lord."

"By Merlin, you will remember my rank and answer me you impudent brat," the Potion's Master snarled. "I sat by today while the Headmaster indulged your whims and allowed you to meander about in your own robes, and later as you and that Vampire took advantage of the Headmaster's good graces, but when I give you a direct order, you _will_ adhere immediately."

It was Maverick's turn to be annoyed now, and this was evident by the way his emerald eyes narrowed and his fists clenched in an obvious display of irritation. "Contrary to what you may believe, m'lord, I am not your slave to treat as you will," the room was lit up suddenly by a flare of magic emanating from the boy, and Snape took a defensive step backward, hand flying to his wand. "Further, I am not the Harry Potter boy you all insist upon addressing me as, and therefore you should not treat me as such. _I _have commanded trained soldiers, have ridden in battle, have worked with magicks that you could only dream of. _I _have dealt with the family from hell, the twice be-damned Dursley's who beat me to within an inch of my life on a daily basis. _I _have been forced to stand by as my friends were murdered or fell to insanity. So if there are some things that I am not willing to tell the twice damned Merlin spawn who has ascertained control of me in this place where I am kept a hostage, _that_ is something you must understand!"

He was yelling by the end of this tirade, and Snape, though not outwardly showing it, was clearly taken aback. The room was eerily silent for a moment while both tried to retrieve their bearings.

"Sometimes life does not work in our favor," Snape said after a moment, his voice surprisingly conciliatory. His words were slow, as though he was truly thinking about them. He gazed at the teenager in front of him analytically, his eyes narrowed in thought. Maverick was calm now, his frustration spent, he nodded in acknowledgment of the Potion's Master words.

"You chose this, you know," Severus added after a minute. "Only you can choose your beliefs. If you detest being treated as a servant by myself, you have only yourself to blame."

Maverick's face darkened but he did not go off as he had before. He answered the man placidly. "The muggles have a debate over how a child gains their personality. They call it "nature vs nurture"," he paused for a moment to see if Snape was listening to him, when the Potions Master nodded for him to continue he went on. "They say that only half of _who_ a person is comes from their intrinsic qualities—their genetics, what they inherited from their parents. The other half comes from how they are raised and what values were inured within them by the people with whom they spent their time."

"An interesting argument," conceded Snape.

"Yes," Maverick agreed. "You see, when I was only a year old I was separated from my birth parents and sent to live with my relatives. These relatives taught me that violence was to be expected, that my very nature, the very _who_ of who I was at that point was dangerous at the very core. Their treatment of me for the, thankfully, few years that I spent with them caused me to sequester any innate inherited qualities deep within me, leaving me easily susceptible to outside influence.

"When I arrived at Excalibur there were people there who had no qualms with teaching me exactly what they believed I should put faith in. They had no problem in demanding that the principles and values to which they put their loyalty in, become ingrained in me as well. My life at Excalibur was not easily, but it was better than at the Dursleys. Partially out of gratitude for getting me away from the idiotic Muggles with whom I had spent those terrible years, and partly out of being infantile in my own belief system, the habits of those with whom I shared my time with became a part of me as well."

At this point Maverick stared Snape straight in the eyes and the Potions master met his gaze unflinchingly. "I obey you because you are an heir of Merlin and by the fundamentals of my beliefs I owe you a debt of gratitude for what your ancestor did for my magical kinsmen. In truth, the magical community owes your ancestor a life debt for his workings, and since that life debt could not be paid during his lifetime, it is owed to you and your kinfolk as his heirs. I follow the old ways in an attempt to redeem the magical community that has forgotten its debts. I took an oath stating that I would never harm one of your kind and that I would obey you. It is a manner of honor, m'lord, and, if I may say so, not something that you should use in order to _enslave_ me."

Severus nodded. "I understand where you are coming from Mr. Potter, but you must understand that I have my orders as well. There are certain things that I need to know in order to ensure both your safety and your continued...captivity, for lack of a better word. I know you don't like it, but that's the way things are, and the faster you accept that, the faster you'll be able to accept the life that you have."

Maverick restrained a sigh, and inclined his head in defeat. "Now get to class," Severus said, and Maverick left in silence.

* * *

Draco Malfoy accepted the bowl of soup that was passed to him with a grateful nod of his head, and as the other man walked away to sit closer to the fire, he surveyed his surroundings.

A week ago he should have been feasting with the rest of his yearmates during the Sorting feast in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, evading his friends curious questions over his summer and making sly jokes about just how small the Gryffindor first years were this year. Instead, he had made due with a rapidly cooling can of beans and had a sneaking suspicion that the people with whom he had shared his meal, none of whom bothered to speak in English, were making fun of _him_.

There were about a dozen of the group altogether, though their exact number was hard to determine as they were never altogether at the same time. They acted like soldiers, they followed a strict schedule, talked very rarely (and always in a different language that Draco couldn't recognize), and always scouted the area before going somewhere.

They had taken him by surprise at his safe house in France, and he had barely had a chance to fight back. The spells he had had the time to cast had easily been avoided by his attackers, and soon enough he was subdued. They had taken his wand, and Draco was intuitive enough to recognize their own magical powers, and wise enough to know that his didn't even compute. Since then he had retained a cordial, if silent relationship with his captors. In return, they treated him as something of a guest instead of a prisoner, albeit somewhat indifferent.

At first he had automatically assumed that they had been sent by Voldemort or his father, but after being with them for nearly a week, he was forced to change his opinion. Besides the fact that none of them had Dark Marks, he had not been tortured, as his fathers or the Dark Lords minions undoubtedly would do to him. Thus, he was somewhat befuddled by his kidnaping, but not quite willing to risk the relationship he had with his captors now to ask.

When he finished his soup he set it aside, and rolled out the Muggle sleeping contraption they had provided him with on his first night with them.

When he woke the next morning they told him they spoke to him for the first time.

They were entering the Forbidden Forest.


	6. Chapter 6

**No Need for Salvation**

**Chapter Six**

_By Shadow Fiend_

_Disclaimer:I claim no rights to the Harry Potter books which are the creation of J.K. Rowling and further disclaim any rights to the movies based upon the aforementioned fiction. My work is merely an extension of the material presented and will receive no monetary compensation or gratification, it is written merely for my and my reader's pleasure._

* * *

During his first weekend at Hogwarts, there was only one thing on Maverick's mind: _reconnaissance_. Granted with a previously unattained amount of freedom, Maverick scoured the Hogwarts castle and grounds, using his training to take in everything that might be of use to him in the future. Aware though he was of the Elder's impending arrival, Maverick's training at Excalibur was such that he was unwilling to leave anything up to chance. Unlikely though it was that the Elders would fail, Maverick wanted a backup plan just in case.

Thus, while the underclassmen played games and traversed the grounds in high spirits and the upperclassman of Hogwarts wandered Hogsmeade, buying chocolate, drinking butterbeer, and frolicking with friends, that Maverick was weaving an ancient charm that would grant him access to the heavily warded underground chambers of Hogwarts. He had happened upon the entrance (hidden behind a portrait of the hunchback Willa Wavengail) by using his extrasensory magical perception, specifically looking for barriers. When he happened upon this, he immediately saw the advantage. He very much doubted that anyone else knew that it was here.

After about two hours of uninterrupted magical activity, Maverick sat back sighing. Whatever was hidden behind this barrier must be important, it would require at least another two hours of work to gain access and if he didn't make himself seen by someone or other in the next few minutes there would doubtless be heavy inquiry into his activities.

Somewhat unsatisfied, Maverick quickly hid his work and headed towards the Great Hall. The drain on his energy was almost transparent and if anyone looked hard enough they would be able to tell he had been using his magic extensively that day. He had been foolish. If he wasn't careful, Snape or Dumbledore would surely notice.

_Maverick!_

Maverick stopped abruptly, his muscles tensing as he glanced around him fervently. A moment later his eyes were transfixed on the image of a small mouse, staring at him in a decidedly sentient way.

_Maverick. _The voice sounded in his head, and Maverick immediately understood that the mouse was the receptacle for an Elder's long-distance telepathy.

_Master_. Maverick responded, keeping eye contact with the mouse. While not absolutely necessary, maintaining eye contact with the receptacle was a more assured method of keeping contact in this type of magic.

_Report on the situation._

_Master, the wizards have me chained to the school and grounds. They also have my first wand and keep a constant surveillance upon me. A descendent of Merlin maintains control over the bands. _

_Serious threats?_

_None, aside from the Merlin descendent. The headmaster is adequately adept at magic but is no match for any of you. _

_We will be there tonight, your presence is required at Excalibur. _

_Yes, Master._

The mouse promptly scattered away and Maverick watched it go. From one master to another—it was his life. Anyway, he much preferred the master he knew.

* * *

For once it didn't happen in the Great Hall. Instead, the Elders sent a terrified second-year to convey the message that they had arrived when the rest of the school was settling in for dinner.

The second-year, a Hufflepuff boy by the name of Edgar Diggle came running up to the Head Table on the cusp of tears.

"Three men and two women, Professor," he nearly shouted, practically shaking out of fear and awe to the audience of the entire hall. "They are in the courtyard. They have Malfoy. Told me to tell you to bring Professor Snape and Potter."

"Thank you, Mr. Diggle," Dumbledore said passively, as though this came as no surprise to him. "We will go now. Professor Snape, Harry, please come with me. Professor McGonagall, I expect you will keep the students within the Hall for the time being."

Without waiting for McGonagall's nod of consent Dumbledore stood, Snape and Maverick rising with him and they simultaneously made their way out of the Hall.

When the double doors had shut behind them, Dumbledore whirled around and gripped Maverick by the shoulders, staring into his eyes in a way that Maverick was sure was meant to be searching. "Harry," he said, ignoring Maverick's narrowed eyes at his use of the misnomer. "I know we may not have done entirely right by you, but I want you to know that what we did was for the best. The world—your world, whether you accept it or not—needs you."

He let go of Maverick abruptly and started to turn away when Maverick interrupted what he was sure the Headmaster had meant to be a heartfelt moment between the two of them. "With all due respect, Headmaster, but this is not and never will be my world. You held me captive and treated me with disrespect. I have no duty to any of you and, if given a chance, would leave here in a second. It's actually rather sickening that you would try to convince me of your so called _good_ intentions."

Dumbledore slowly turned around, and his eyes no longer held the sparkle he usually so readily maintained. Instead they were steel. "I'm sorry you feel that way _Maverick_," the name was pronounced almost sneeringly and had Maverick been anyone else he probably would have been surprised at the Headmaster's capacity to attain that level of snarkiness, "but in the end it doesn't really matter what you think. I can't let you leave here, and I have faith that in time you'll come to see how much you're needed. Severus, I trust you know what is to be done."

Snape snorted too quietly for Dumbledore to hear, but Maverick caught his gaze and the two men shared a moment of quiet understanding. And Maverick suddenly had a better conception of the man that duty forced him to obey. He didn't truly believe that what Dumbledore was doing to Maverick was right, but his position in the world was such that if he did anything else other than blindly follow the Headmaster he would be doomed. It was a sticky web and while Maverick felt an amount of compassion for the man's plight, he was unwilling to discount the man's abuse of power that he had so far showcased. It was not his place to do anything other than honor and protect a descendent of Merlin, but that would not be the case for those who waited in the courtyard.

Dumbledore turned briskly on his heel, heading rapidly towards the courtyard. Snape and Maverick followed.

The moment they exited the castle, embracing the cool air and the still descending sun, they took in the sight that had so frightened Edgar Diggle.

* * *

If Draco Malfoy had ever doubted his role as prisoner, he no longer did. While his captors may have been decent, even kind to him on his way to Hogwarts, now that they have arrived they were bordering on brutal.

He had felt a momentary surge of relief when they had exited the dark and dreary woods of the Forbidden Forest. He had even, for a moment, contemplated that maybe the abduction was just an Order mission—the details of which had been kept from him for his own safety. However, the moment they had made it to the courtyard, one of his captors had promptly hit him over the head and he had lost consciousness.

When he came to, he was tied to a post in the middle of the courtyard, gagged and developing a major headache. He also noticed, to his intense discomfort, that there was a sharp object pressing lightly into his skin, a warning to discourage any movement.

He watched as the Headmaster exited the castle, followed by his Godfather and….a boy he had never seen before. The Headmaster seemed unfazed by Draco's situation, and to most eyes Snape would appear to be disinterested. Draco however, knew his Godfather and noted the sudden look in his eyes denoting surprise and a hint of fear. The boy however, had barely looked at him at all. Instead his eyes had taken in whoever was holding the blade to his neck and the remainder of his captors. A small smiling lit his face, and the boy dropped to his knees in clear subservience.

"We come in peace," the Headmaster said calmly, flashing a smile and an eye twinkle. "Please release Mr. Malfoy and allow us to discuss this as civilized human beings."

Draco tried to contain his gasp as the blade suddenly bit into his skin, drawing a drop of blood down his neck. It didn't hurt as much as shock and he recognized the action as an attempt to relate that they were not in the mood to bargain.

"There will be no discussion," a man from Draco's right said in an accent that Draco couldn't quite place. "You will release Maverick into our possession and we will consider letting this human go relatively unscathed. You realize of course that our situations are unequal. This boy means nothing to us and Maverick means very much to you." The blade cut deeper and this time Draco did release a small cry. It hurt _goddammit_ and he didn't remember signing up as a bargaining tool for another one of Dumbledore's manipulative games. He met his Godfather's eyes trying to convey the message. _These people are serious._

Snape looked up, meeting the eyes of whoever held the blade to his throat. "Release him, immediately. I command you as one of the descendents of Merlin."

A soft, melodic woman's laugh answered him. "Oh dear, I'm afraid that won't work. You see…_cousin_…I too am a descendent of our late ancestor and more directly than you. I'm afraid I pull rank in this particular situation. Now, why don't you release Maverick from his bonds and I'll consider not digging any deeper into your dear--godson, is it?--Well in any case, I won't kill him. What do you say?"

Snape's eyes widened fractionally, conveying his surprise—and he shot his gaze to the Headmaster who looked temporarily dumbfounded at this particular turn of events.

"Talina, might we finish this sometime today? I have business to attend to and this has gone on for long enough," this voice came from Draco's left—a lower, more sultry feminine voice. Dumbledore's eyes shot to her, and he noticed the man falter for a moment.

"A Veela Queen…but I thought…."

"What you think doesn't matter old man," the Veela responded. "In fact, the majority of your mortal affairs are far beneath my interest."

The air _whooshed_ around Draco and he suddenly felt another sharp object (a talon?) brush against his jugular. "Release him now or I kill this boy."

"Now Eva," Talina responded chidingly, "is this any way to behave in front of our student? You are not setting a very good example."

"Very well," the woman grumbled and moved her talon away from Draco. "It would be wrong to attack a defenseless boy. I guess I'll just kill _him_ instead."

With this announcement, the woman lunged at Snape who stared at her in befuddlement, far too slow to avoid anything other than what would undoubtedly be a life-threatening injury.

Until Maverick intercepted her, shielding the Professor with his magic and forcing the woman, who Draco could now see was most decidedly a Veela, to bounce off, screeching angrily. Wings suddenly sprouted from her back, although unlike normal Veela she maintained her alluring human form.

Maverick dropped again to his knees, baring his neck in subjugation. "I apologize, Mistress. The man is an Heir. I will not allow him to be injured."

"Come now Eva," Talina rebuked gently. "You really should know better, we've inured our mortal students to the old ways, protecting the heirs is part of their innate moral code."

"I knew keeping them chained to the old ways was a mistake Talina…"

"The old ways are not a mistake Eva! It's just unfortunate that mankind his fallen to such a low as to produce such a pathetic heir as the man that stands before us."

Eva reached down and entwined her clawed hands in Maverick's long locks. She pulled his head up, gently gazing into his eyes. "I do not begrudge you, young one."

Maverick breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Mistress."

Eva released his hair, gave Snape a searching look and backed away to her former position apparently no longer interested in the situation.

"We cannot attack your Heir, and you cannot force me to release our hostage," Talina said, addressing Snape and Dumbledore. "We also cannot force your heir to release Maverick's bonds, as only he can do. I want to make this very clear. If you will not release our student's bonds then we will kill your student. In fact, he now has ten more minutes to live."

And with that, the blade cut deeper and the blood started to gush.


End file.
